


Snow Problem

by Fluterbev



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, Drunkenness, Gen, Hangover, Holidays, Pre-Slash, Quadruple Drabble, Snow and Ice, TS Secret Santa 2006, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-09
Updated: 2006-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluterbev/pseuds/Fluterbev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seasonal quadruple drabble (400 words) written in December 2006 for <a href="http://ts-secret-santa.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://ts-secret-santa.livejournal.com/"></a><b>ts_secret_santa</b>. The prompt was 'snow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Problem

_"There’s NO business like SNOW business…”_

_“Blair, quieten down, okay? You’ll wake the whole building!”_

_“S’no problem, man. Hey, ‘snow’ problem! Get it?”_

Jim sighed as Blair dissolved into giggles. Lying awake in bed, he’d been listening to Blair’s drunken singing and expansive pontificating ever since the car Blair had come home in had pulled up outside.

Tying the belt on his robe as he walked downstairs, Jim opened the front door just as Blair reached it. One hand fumbling ineffectually with his key, Blair was leaning heavily on the irritated-looking friend who had brought him home, blinking owlishly in the sudden light which flooded the hallway through the open door.

Blair’s friend – it was Mike, a fellow TA - had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “Sorry about this, Jim,” he murmured. “I never realized he was such a noisy drunk. He’s usually the designated driver at these things.”

Jim shrugged, and hooked an arm around Blair, divesting Mike of his burden. “At least he didn’t try to kiss you,” he noted. “It’s what he did to me, the last time he got in this state. He’s an affectionate little sot.”

“Hey, I’m right here, guys!” Blair protested as he was maneuvered inside. “And you’re the only one I want to kiss, Jim.” He swayed alarmingly. “Pucker up, soldier!” he demanded.

Jim rolled his eyes as he hauled Blair upright, saving him from a tumble. “Thanks Mike,” he said, as Mike made a grateful escape.

Inside, he maneuvered Blair into his bedroom. “In the deep midwinter,” Blair was singing, just off-key enough to grate on Jim’s nerves. “Long time ago…”

Working on autopilot, his hands impersonal, Jim divested Blair of boots, socks and jeans, and got him lying down on the bed. Blair continued to sing. “Snow and snow and SNOW and snow… Snow and snow and snow…”

“Don’t tell me,” Jim quipped, as Blair’s toneless serenade dwindled to a close. “It’s snowing outside, right?”

His answer was a long, drawn out snore.

The next morning, Jim grinned wryly at the pitiful sight of his partner, hunched over the table with an ice pack on his neck.

“Thanks, Jim,” Blair muttered thickly, as Jim brought him some Tylenol and juice.

“Snow problem, Chief,” Jim said.

Cracking open a bloodshot eye, Blair glared at him. “That’s not _remotely_ funny, man,” he complained grouchily.

In answer, Jim blew him a kiss.

 

 

 

The End


End file.
